[ he has wanted to be known more than once in the centuries of his life. he has wanted to share himself with tentative, eager longing, terrified and small and angry and hated all. he has whispered his secrets and grabbed at those who have asked explanation to force it upon them. (he told aurora with a new, tender heart. he shared those violent pieces of himself with camille with the same desperation.
he offers this to caroline in all the same ways, and not at all. he offers himself with the hope that he can trust this with her, with vulnerability and fear.)
his hand closes around hers. his thumb brushes over the hills of of her fingers and he draws them closer to envelop with his other hand. his eyes are steady and lost in hers, lips parted as he pulls her into his mind.
he does not offer this to many, but it is he who is humbled that she accepts.
first, there's laughter. warm, familiar bodies and little hands pulling and playing under the sun. there's the smell of fresh fall. he's showing her his life before it all: that blessed always and forever before it was twisted into a promise and a curse. there is love. there is hope. there is terror in his heart and he's hiding among those trees, hiding from a father who hates him, but he is not alone.
thunder rumbles. lightning strikes. he shows her rebekah. he shows her how much love was in his heart, how much he loved his sister, how much he has always wanted to protect her. i will always stay with you, rebekah. no matter what. he shows her elijah, older now as they trade banter and blows. his brother, who he has always counted on and looked up to and then the harsh hands of his father, sinking swords in he and rebekah's hearts. the anguish is far away but it is enduring, the shame and terror at mikael's hands pushing him back before he forces blood down his sister's throat.
it is enduring, the agony of shifting into a wolf for the first time, pain and confusion and horror that ripples and wracks through his body, but it is nothing like the heartbreak of elijah helping his father string him up. please, he says. please don't do this to me.
klaus pauses. he pauses long enough, his shoulders shaking, to take a breath. to find the will to go on. to show her his anger. his rage. the endless bellow of pain and fear that has been nestled inside of his heart for centuries. he shows her in flashes his mother's blood, the body parts of villagers he woke up to find strewn about him that first night. the horror and remorse. what have i become? is the question he asks elijah and his brother's hands are gentle now, grounding, but mikael's voice is never far behind. he's a beast.
he pulls back, because he can't go on from there. he cannot bear the depth of that shame anymore than he can share it at length, spiraling down into memories of bruises and worthlessness. he straightens, his hands lingering in hers. he finds his eyes are wet and his cheeks are too. he watches her, and he waits, heart in his throat. ]
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he offers this to caroline in all the same ways, and not at all. he offers himself with the hope that he can trust this with her, with vulnerability and fear.)
his hand closes around hers. his thumb brushes over the hills of of her fingers and he draws them closer to envelop with his other hand. his eyes are steady and lost in hers, lips parted as he pulls her into his mind.
he does not offer this to many, but it is he who is humbled that she accepts.
first, there's laughter. warm, familiar bodies and little hands pulling and playing under the sun. there's the smell of fresh fall. he's showing her his life before it all: that blessed always and forever before it was twisted into a promise and a curse. there is love. there is hope. there is terror in his heart and he's hiding among those trees, hiding from a father who hates him, but he is not alone.
thunder rumbles. lightning strikes. he shows her rebekah. he shows her how much love was in his heart, how much he loved his sister, how much he has always wanted to protect her. i will always stay with you, rebekah. no matter what. he shows her elijah, older now as they trade banter and blows. his brother, who he has always counted on and looked up to and then the harsh hands of his father, sinking swords in he and rebekah's hearts. the anguish is far away but it is enduring, the shame and terror at mikael's hands pushing him back before he forces blood down his sister's throat.
it is enduring, the agony of shifting into a wolf for the first time, pain and confusion and horror that ripples and wracks through his body, but it is nothing like the heartbreak of elijah helping his father string him up. please, he says. please don't do this to me.
klaus pauses. he pauses long enough, his shoulders shaking, to take a breath. to find the will to go on. to show her his anger. his rage. the endless bellow of pain and fear that has been nestled inside of his heart for centuries. he shows her in flashes his mother's blood, the body parts of villagers he woke up to find strewn about him that first night. the horror and remorse. what have i become? is the question he asks elijah and his brother's hands are gentle now, grounding, but mikael's voice is never far behind. he's a beast.
he pulls back, because he can't go on from there. he cannot bear the depth of that shame anymore than he can share it at length, spiraling down into memories of bruises and worthlessness. he straightens, his hands lingering in hers. he finds his eyes are wet and his cheeks are too. he watches her, and he waits, heart in his throat. ]